


The Gift Of A Goddess

by PumpkinWrites



Category: RWBY
Genre: Gen, Partial Grimmification
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-13
Updated: 2018-11-13
Packaged: 2019-08-23 07:39:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16614716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PumpkinWrites/pseuds/PumpkinWrites
Summary: Ever since Her success in replacing Cinder's lost arm, it's seemed that Arthur expects Her to bestow upon Tyrian a similar replacement for his lost tail. And in truth, She had considered doing so, but could not justify rewarding failure such as the state of defeat in which Tyrian had returned to Her. That should have been a failure most unforgivable. But then, Tyrian is such a devoted, loyal little pawn, and it serves Her purposes well to ensure that he remains that way. Perhaps this time, replacing a lost limb would prove to be worth the effort.





	The Gift Of A Goddess

The sky is bright, bloody red, though it is difficult to see that unless one looks up at the eye-shaped window in the ceiling. The damaged moon is high overhead, as it always appears to be here. The harsh, artificial lights provide a much brighter atmosphere to the room than can be seen in any other part of the palace, and the sounds of machines provide a low hum of white noise that would seem almost soothing, were it not for the terrifying nature of the experiments that are performed in here.

The doors to Arthur Watts' workshop open well before the appearance of the one who seeks out the doctor and patient inside. But there is no mistaking who calls upon them.

The approach of the Queen is heralded, as usual, not by footsteps, but by a sense of smothering melancholy and gloom, and by a thick, oppressive darkness that seems to ooze out from Her very being, even dimming the bright lights around the workshop, snuffing them completely as the Queen draws ever closer. The darkness reaches and spreads along the walls and floor in tendrils and web of heavy shadow, resembling the pools from which Her children emerge. Though, those deep pools outside the safety of the palace walls are not so terrifying: all they do is bubble and ripple when they are hard at work spawning more Grimm. This darkness seems to breathe, and a thudding sound, as if of a living heart, seems to beat from its inky depths.

Tyrian, as usual, prostrates himself before Her among the black ichor that spreads across the stones of the floor, and Arthur bows his head and genuflects in respect and reverence as their Queen approaches. Her movements are fluid, slow and deliberate, as She crosses the room to Her servants. The train of Her skirts and cape whisper, barely audible, against the floor, though Her steps are far too light to be heard. Her hands are folded in front of Her, ivory skin lined with crimson markings like drips of the blood which once ran through Her veins. Like the markings of Her dear creations. Her shoulders squared and Her head raised, posture perfect and regal.

Ethereal, as befits a Goddess. And She _is_ a Goddess.

"To what do we owe this honor, Your Grace?" Arthur asks, raising his head and squaring his shoulders as he stands to address Her properly. Arthur's decorum, as usual, leaves much to be desired by the Goddess. Though his tone is as respectful as he ever manages to make it, the Goddess cannot help but detect behind his question a hint of irritation at being disturbed from his work.

Surely the doctor knows _better_ than that.

"Am I not allowed to roam _freely_ through My own domain, Arthur?" She asks, with a sharp coolness that makes Tyrian flinch and whimper into the shadows.

Though it has been so very long since She was imprisoned, it still sometimes takes more restraint than She will ever admit to avoid expressing just how vehemently She refuses to tolerate the notion that there may be any limit to Her ability to walk freely through Her own domain. That was made abundantly clear when Arthur was granted use of this space: he would say nothing if She entered it. Any warning he might receive of Her arrival would be only a formality. She refuses to be denied, to be confined to one single place again.

 _Never_ again.

However, it is not necessary for Her to remind him of this, as Arthur bows his head back down in apology. Pleased at the gesture of submission, She continues to speak. "I am here to see what progress you've made with Tyrian's tail."

"Well, my Lady, his prosthetic is constructed, we're just having some difficulty in keeping it properly attached." As if to demonstrate his point, the doctor gestures to the prosthetic stinger that has once again come off and now lays useless among the shallow pool of black, not far from the prone figure of its intended wearer. "Limbs like this are much more difficult to replace than, say, an arm, and even then, it would be entirely aesthetics over function, as I really have no way to replicate his ability to secrete his toxin from it. He'd do much better with a living replacement, if I may be so bold, my Lady..."

Ah. _This_ again.

Ever since Her success in replacing Cinder's lost arm with that of a geist, it's seemed that Arthur expects Her to bestow upon Tyrian a similar replacement for his lost tail. And in truth, She had considered doing so, but could not justify rewarding failure such as the state of defeat in which Tyrian had returned to Her. Not only had he not brought Her the silver-eyed girl after deviating from his task of locating Spring in order to hunt for her, but he had both been stripped of his stinger and failed to murder Qrow Branwen in the process of losing the silver-eyed child. And now, they had lost track of the child, the relic, and Spring herself. This should have been a failure most unforgivable.

But then, he can hardly be blamed for Her own foolishness. She cannot truly fault him, not entirely, when She in fact ordered him to hunt for the child with whose destruction dear Cinder seemed to be nothing short of obsessed. She had thought that bringing Cinder the child would speed up her training, but it was discovered that having her young pet simply show her the image of the child would do just as well, making it pointless to allow Tyrian to waste everyone's time. And Tyrian is such a devoted, loyal little pawn, and it serves Her purposes well to ensure that he remains that way. Perhaps this time, replacing a lost limb would prove to be worth the effort. He has never failed Her in such a devastating way before, and is eagerness to return to servitude, despite his amputation, has not escaped Her notice.

"Is that so?" She finally asks, blood-colored eyes narrowing as the Goddess scrutinizes the physician. "Is this task too _daunting_ for the brilliant Doctor Watts?"

"Respectfully, Your Grace, I don't believe 'daunting' is the right word. I simply wouldn't be able to create something with full functionality without wiring a neurotransmitter into his brain, and that will take time that, unfortunately, I fear we may not have. I've never dealt with an appendage such as his before, Your Grace."

"And yet, you expect Me to replace his tail Myself. Is that right?"

"... well, I wouldn't say that I _expect_ it of You, my La--"

"That isn't what I asked, Arthur. I don't care what you would or would not say. Do you expect that I should replace Tyrian's tail Myself?"

"Of course not, Your Grace." Arthur begins to drone again, the banality of his disingenuous excuse that he would never dare suggest that She do his work for him, that he's aware that such a task is far beneath Her, actually beginning to irritate the Goddess. His indolence is nothing short of tiresome. She is spared from more of his nonsense, however, when the other man in the room finally speaks.

"... please, my Lady..." Tyrian's voice is weak, broken and scratchy from the strain of whatever it is Arthur has already put him through. He doesn't rise from the flagstones, but he has raised up ever-so-slightly onto his hands and knees, enough to address Her so that She may hear him. "... Y-You don't need to do that... I don't deserve that..."

"No. You _don't_ deserve it," the Goddess says, more bluntly than is necessary as Her tone causes him to cower again. "However..."

The word causes him to peek up with wide eyes, trembling among the pool of shadow in which he kneels. "... m-my Lady?"

Rather than reply verbally to Tyrian, She merely glances behind him, at his ruined tail. All at once, the shadows move, pulsing and bubbling, as the heartbeat sound grows louder and louder. Part of the pool oozes up to cover his tail, seeming to drag it downward out of sight and into depths that should not exist beneath the shiny surface, accompanied by growling, animal breathing, not unlike the sounds Her children made.

Tyrian screams, but the pool holds his hands against the flagstones and prevents him from moving as the darkness races up along his spine. Watts steps back, away from Tyrian and their Goddess, with an expression that She has not seen on his face in some time: one of shock and horror. The scorpion writhes against the shadows, thrashing and contorting against his inky bonds as his screams grow in volume, his voice finally breaking in a hoarse crack.

Only when his yells turn to rattling gasps does the darkness finally melt away, dripping off of his body and back into its pool as it releases his tail. The heartbeat fades back into faintness, quietly pulsing from somewhere distant rather than all throughout the room. Tyrian's body convulses still, as if he is fighting back the urge to be sick and dry-heaving at the same time.

"... _fascinating_..." Watts is the first to move, peering at Tyrian's ruined tail, and the Goddess sees his lip curl in fascination as he sees what has been done to it. Brown chitin has turned black underneath, covered from base and spine to near tip along the top side in white plates of bone until the pristine gold of a new stinger, one far more dangerous than the one he lost. Watts moves in for a closer look, though he jumps backward when Tyrian's new tail whips toward him, raising with ease and and lowering back into the darkness.

Shuddering, still gasping for breath, Tyrian pulls his tail around to get a look at it, and his eyes are wide when he finally sees what gift his Queen has given him. He dares to look upward at Her for only a moment before he crawls forward, as close to Her as he dares, and bows lower into the pool at Her feet. "Th-Thank You, Your Grace... m-my _Queen_... th-thank Y-You..."

"You've served Me very well, and though I was _very_ disappointed by this... unfortunate setback..."

In an unexpected move, the Goddess sinks down to Her own knees among the shadows, tipping Tyrian’s face so that he may look upon Her properly. She never lowers Herself to address anyone, but in this case, Tyrian may be too weak to rise just yet, and She does not have the time or patience to watch him struggle to get up.

"... loyalty such as yours should not go entirely unacknowledged. And you've learned your lesson, haven't you, Tyrian?"

"Y-Yes... Y-Yes, my Queen!"

She smiles, and rises to Her feet, folding Her hands back into place. Tyrian returns to his reverent position at the hem of Her skirts, though he is careful not to touch them, and She can faintly hear him whimpering praises and prayers into the ichor beneath him. She does grow tired of his ceaseless adulation from time to time, but in this case, it is well-earned, and She will gladly hear it.

"See to it that he rests, Arthur."

"Yes, my Lady."

The Queen turns, and makes Her way back to the door. As She begins to depart, the darkness follows, allowing some of the light to return to the room. She stops at the threshold and turns only slightly over Her shoulder to speak one final reminder back into the room.

The act of granting Tyrian a second chance comes with quite the obvious caveat. It will no doubt encourage him to work even harder to do as She asks of him. Because to fail Her again, after She was so merciful as to not only allow him to live after his previous disgrace, but to grant him a living tail when he proved himself to be so very undeserving of such a gift, would absolutely mean his death.

"Do _not_ disappoint Me again, Tyrian."

**Author's Note:**

> So, the "shadows" that spawn around Salem are shamelessly inspired by the way Bendy covers a room in ink when he spawns in Bendy and the Ink Machine, because I thought that was a cool touch. I know she doesn't spawn Grimm liquid wherever she goes, as far as we know, but I think it's a cool look for her.
> 
> Yes, she gave him a Deathstalker tail.


End file.
